


22

by stelleappese



Series: 30 drabbles [15]
Category: Chernobyl (TV 2019)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-06-27
Packaged: 2020-05-20 22:43:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19386037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stelleappese/pseuds/stelleappese
Summary: And since he doesn’t know how else to do it, Boris just sits opposite to Valery, one night, in his suite, and sets a little jar of vaseline on the coffee table between them, on top of a pile of notes, between empty coffee cups and an half-full bottle of vodka.





	22

Boris wonders about it for a couple of days. He's used to politics, used to speaking in circles around what he wants to say, but this is different. This is harder.

He steals glances at Valery, when he can, as if looking at him will somehow tell him how to approach the topic. But all Valery does is scribble, sigh, rub his eyes, look immensely tired.

And since he doesn’t know how else to do it, Boris just sits opposite to Valery, one night, in his suite, and sets a little jar of vaseline on the coffee table between them, on top of a pile of notes, between empty coffee cups and an half-full bottle of vodka.

Valery looks at it, then at Boris, then back at it again.   
“Ah,” he comments, “You’ve come prepared.”   
“Should I not have come prepared?” Boris asks, slowly.   
Valery sets down his notebook and pen, gingerly; he bites the inside of his cheek. The way he looks at Boris when his eyes move back on him makes answering the question irrelevant.

*

The lamp on the night stand isn’t really enough to illuminate the room; it only makes the shadows deeper, darker. It doesn’t matter, Boris thinks. Not as long as Valery’s skin is against Boris’.  
Again, it’s Valery who’s leading him, sitting on Boris’ lap, leaning forward a little, eyes closed as he slowly guides Boris’ cock inside him. He pushes down in excruciatingly small increments, and Boris digs his fingers against Valery’s hips and forces himself not to thrust into him. He’ll leave him with bruises, he thinks. He doesn’t really dislike that idea.

It’s only once Boris is all the way inside Valery that he moves, not to buck his hips but to sit up, hands sliding down to cup Valery’s ass, more to keep him close than anything else. Valery’s hands rest against Boris’ chest, his almost fully hard cock presses against Boris’ stomach. He gasps a little when Boris moves, and Boris leans in and catches that gasp with his lips.   
Valery may have led him so far, but it’s Boris who guides his movements now, up and down, slow and deep. It doesn’t take long before Valery’s fingers are digging into Boris’ hair, his whimper and moans muffled against the crook of Boris’ neck.  
Something in the way Valery clings to Boris makes Boris chuckle again, and for some reason Valery’s skin fills with goosebumps when he does that. His fingers clutch against Boris’ hair, his teeth drag against his neck. Boris presses a kiss to Valery’s freckled shoulder and lifts him up, shifting until he can press Valery against the mattress and start thrusting into him.

And of all the things he could be thinking of (the curve of Valery’s neck as he presses his head against the bed; the way he bucks his hips to grind against him; his fingernails digging into Boris’ back,) he thinks of what could have been.

He presses a kiss to Valery’s cheek, such an innocent gesture it surprises Valery enough to open his eyes and look at him; he reaches out to grab the footboard for balance and pushes into Valery again. Valery’s mouth falls open; his eyelashes tremble.   
He must mistake the way Boris is looking at him for hesitance, because he whispers: “Don’t stop,” and arches up to rub himself against Boris.   
And Boris, who has done anything Valery asked of him since the moment he met him, doesn’t see why he shouldn’t obey this time as well.


End file.
